


Measured

by Espereth



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espereth/pseuds/Espereth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being introduced to the handsome young Ezio Auditore, Leonardo invites him back to his workshop. Porniness ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Measured

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [量体裁心](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3191648) by [Christywalks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christywalks/pseuds/Christywalks)



Ezio set down the box of Leonardo's paintings and wiped his hands on his breeches. 

“Thank you for your help, son,” said Maria Auditore. “Don't let me keep you from your other duties.” Ezio bowed his head politely to his mother, and walked with Leonardo back to the gates of the Auditore house. He decided he liked this painter, with his little workshop and his quaint enthusiasms about changing the world. 

“So, you're to be a banker,” Leonardo said. “Do you think you will enjoy it?” 

“Perhaps.” Ezio shrugged. “I will enjoy having lots of money to spend on wine and women.” 

“Ah, of course.” Leonardo looked at his feet for a moment. “It was so good to meet you, Ezio.” He looked up again and his eyes lingered on Ezio's a fraction too long. Ezio's stomach tensed. There was something in that look that he didn't understand, some hidden meaning. 

“I hope our paths cross again,” Leonardo said, and his eyes searched Ezio's. 

“ _Anch'io_. Me too.” Ezio swallowed. It was ridiculous that a simple painter should make him nervous, Ezio thought, and he returned the look with a bold stare. 

Leonardo smiled, and ducked his head – a strange gesture that made him seem almost shy. “You are welcome to visit my workshop any time,” he said. “From time to time, I take on students. If you like, I could speak to your mother about–” 

“No, no. That's not for me,” Ezio said, looking back over his shoulder, but Maria was safely out of earshot. He didn't want her to get the idea of making him add painting pictures to the ever-lengthening list of dull tasks he had to try to avoid. He and Federico had better things to do – climbing rooftops, meeting girls, drinking wine. Beating Vieri de Pazzi and his friends to a pulp. 

“Ah, I see – I won't mention it, then.” But Leonardo looked so crestfallen that Ezio felt compelled to explain. 

“I just meant, I don't want to paint pictures,” Ezio told him. “But – I could still visit your workshop.” 

The painter's face brightened. “You could?” 

“Perhaps.” Ezio shrugged. “If I am not busy with other things.” He wondered what it was that made Leonardo so happy about his workshop. He supposed it would be a mark of pride, for someone who had no real status in the world. 

“I'm going there now, Ezio. You could walk back with me. If you want to.” 

Ezio hesitated. Federico was at the bank, probably bored and getting in the way of people who actually had to work. Ezio had had the idea that he could climb up the wall of the house opposite, and throw stones at the windows of the bank. His brother would hear and abandon his duties to climb out onto the roof, and they would have an adventure. A fight with Vieri's _stronzo_ friends, or perhaps another race. Ezio was faster than Federico now. It would be good to prove it again. 

But Leonardo stared at Ezio with his strange shy smile and searching eyes, and there was that twisting feeling in his stomach again, the hint of danger and the promise of something he had never encountered before. His curiosity got the better of him, and he shrugged. 

“I have work to do, but I can visit for a little while.” 

As they walked, Leonardo talked of his ambitions to secure patronage from Lorenzo de Medici. He did not think of himself as a mere painter, and seemed to consider himself the equal to any architect or engineer in Firenze. Coming from another man, his words would have seemed arrogant, but Leonardo was ingenuous with his eager eyes and mobile hands. Ezio strode beside him, listening to his grandiose plans. The painter liked to talk. 

Once inside the workshop, Ezio had to hide his admiration behind a raised eyebrow and an amused quirk of his mouth. Leonardo certainly was more than a painter. Everywhere were models – of mills, cranes, bridges. He saw a machine that looked as though it would be worked by running water, its purpose unclear to Ezio. Sketches of similar machines, and of some more fanciful, lay scattered on workbenches and tables. There were paintings, too, most of them unfinished, which Leonardo showed him. Ezio supposed they were good, but how would he know? He didn't much care for such things. 

Ezio paid little attention as Leonardo explained some of his mechanical designs. He wandered about, feigning boredom. He fiddled with a model bridge that raised and lowered, wondering if Leonardo would tell him to stop. 

He didn't. Ezio turned away to examine a strange sketch of a man, flying like a bird in a winged frame. The painter's eyes were on him, looking him up and down, and he was getting an erection. It meant nothing, of course. These days, Ezio had an erection no matter what he did. He could get one from looking at a brick wall. But the more Leonardo watched him, the harder he got, until the painter's scrutiny became unbearable. 

Ezio turned to look him in the eyes. “What do you want, Leonardo?”

“I would – very much like to take measurements of you, Ezio Auditore,” Leonardo said. 

“Measurements?” 

“If you would permit it. For painting, sculpting, anatomy, I need dimensions. Proportions. The city gives me bodies, but they are old men, and not in the best physical condition. Young men, in good health, do not die unless they meet with trouble or misadventure – in which case, the body ends up in the river and not on my workbench.” He showed Ezio a carpenter's rule, and a length of canvas he had cut with the same markings on it. “With this, I can measure surfaces that curve -” 

Ezio held up a hand, cutting him off before he launched into a story about his measuring tape. “ _Va bene_ , Leonardo. If it helps.” 

“Wonderful! I'll start with your upper body.” He looked at Ezio expectantly. 

Ezio waited, an eyebrow raised. 

“Ah – Ezio. I need to take the measurements without your clothes. Would you take off your shirt, please?” 

Ezio shrugged, stripped off his shirt and threw it across a chair. 

There was a long pause. Leonardo stared, a strange flush spreading across his cheekbones. 

“What is it now?” 

“Nothing. You are a handsome young man, Ezio. Would you hold your arm out for me? I'll begin.” 

*** 

Leonardo had tried to prepare himself for the sight of Ezio Auditore's naked chest and arms and belly, but now found that he could not breathe. 

_How old is this boy? Seventeen? He knows nothing. You are a fool, and you know where this leads. Ahead is only trouble._

Ezio's chest was filling out but still sweetly slender. He was not even fully developed, but already his arms were a study of corded muscle, sharp shadow contrasting with smooth hard swell. He had a lot of hair, for a boy his age – a thick dark trail led down from his navel towards his groin. 

“Hold your arm straight, Ezio – that's right.” Leonardo supported his elbow to hold it steady. “Keep still.” He pressed the measuring tape to the dimple at the top of his shoulder, and stretched it to his wrist. The soft bulge of a prominent vein ran like a seam along the inside of his upper arm. Leonardo resisted the urge to touch it, press it down, to feel the hot blood resisting under his fingertips. He noted the measurement in his book while Ezio watched with curiosity. 

Next, he circled the tape over Ezio's upper arm and felt him flex his bicep, making it thicker. 

“Don't do that,” Leonardo chided, smiling. “This isn't a competition – I just want to get proportions.” Ezio rolled his eyes. 

Leonardo lingered over his task with guilty pleasure, taking most of the measurements twice. For accuracy's sake. Across Ezio's neat, strong shoulders, around the widest part of his chest. When he looped his tape around Ezio's flat hard belly, brushing sensitive skin with his fingertips, the young man flinched and laughed. Just a hint of the tenderness of youth at his waist, the remnants of growth. Leonardo would paint him, this fascinating body in transition from youth to man. He would capture it now before it changed forever. 

He turned Ezio around by his shoulders and marvelled at the sleek symmetry of his back – shadow and light and the tender glow of muscle, soft and hard at once. In his head, Leonardo was already mixing his paints, forming colours, testing out techniques for translating the luminous pale olive skin onto canvas. 

He held the measuring tape at the nape of Ezio's neck, stretched it to the base of his spine. Ezio's breeches were in the way. 

“Ezio...?” Leonardo said, but it seemed the young man had thought ahead of him. Without a word, he kicked off his shoes, unbuttoned his breeches and dropped them. Leonardo had to stand back and catch his breath at the confluence of structure and beauty. 

Leonardo was not a fighter and never would be. His own body was tall and strong, but nothing like the hard curved muscle of Ezio's arms and back, of his arse and thighs. It was obvious that the boy's body was built for combat – but not like that of the _mercenario_. Next to them, Ezio Auditore was - not slight, but qualitatively different – lean and hard and supple rather than bulky. And that skin. Leonardo saw it on canvas, the tone cool olive, but captured so perfectly with gradations of matte and soft shine that it expressed nothing so much as the warmth of human vitality. 

He held Ezio's hips, his hands shaking. Leonardo's cock was hard as a board, with that lean young body, naked, in his hands but still just out of reach. If he leaned a little forward, he would be able to press himself up against Ezio's naked arse, even through his breeches, rest his cock in the cleft between the tight buttocks. 

_Imbecile_! You will hang, he told himself. And perhaps you deserve to. This young man trusts you. 

For a few moments he struggled to suppress his thoughts, the clamour of fear, guilt, arousal. He found it impossible. He imagined spreading those cheeks apart with his thumbs. Perhaps some oil on his fingers to slick Ezio's hole, circling it. Ezio would moan with newly-woken need, and Leonardo would slip his fingers inside, showing him how it felt. He would withdraw his fingers to sink his cock into that tight tiny hole, arms around Ezio as the boy twisted and moaned and pushed back against him, writhing with the strange sensation. 

Unable to resist any longer, Leonardo kissed Ezio Auditore between his shoulder blades, lips framing a vertebra. He licked it, felt the contrast of soft skin and hard bone. The boy didn't flinch, but turned in his arms to look at Leonardo with curiosity. 

A flush of fire ran up Leonardo's throat. He glanced down at Ezio's thick erection, proud as a mast, and his eyes widened. 

Before he could stop himself, he looked back at Ezio's face to find him smirking. 

With one hand still resting on a hipbone, Leonardo touched Ezio's cheek, laid a finger under his chin and brushed a kiss across his lips. Ezio let him, but tensed when Leonardo nudged his lips with his tongue. 

“If you want me to stop, Ezio,” Leonardo said. He kissed his cheek instead, and drew back. 

“No, it's not that,” Ezio said. “I just never thought of this. There are enough beautiful women in Firenze to make a man happy until the end of his days.” 

“Not all men. Look around you, Ezio Auditore, next time you cross any piazza in the city. See who looks back. Bankers, merchants.” He paused, giving the boy a long look, a hand still on his hip, where Ezio had permitted him to leave it. “Artisans. This is Firenze. Not all of us have our eyes upon her daughters.” 

“Evidently,” Ezio said, and Leonardo flushed again. Those arrogant eyes, the quirk of that scarred sensual mouth. Leonardo closed his eyes and kissed Ezio again, harder this time, pushing his tongue inside his mouth. He had hoped to unnerve Ezio, but the boy opened his mouth unfazed, accepting Leonardo's tongue. He held Leonardo's head and slid his own tongue in, fighting for dominance. Ezio's body was hard all over – his cock against Leonardo's thigh, forearms on his collarbone, hands tilting his head back. Ezio was stronger, rougher, and Leonardo submitted, letting him control the kiss. He dropped his measuring tape, draped his arms over the slender, muscled back and waist. 

“Have you finished with your measurements?” Ezio murmured into his mouth after a time. Seventeen and naked, kissed by a man for the first time. And yet, Leonardo was the one to fumble and drop things. 

“No.” Leonardo swallowed. “No, there are others I need to take,” he said. “If – if you will let me, Ezio.” 

Breaking the kiss, Ezio picked up the tape and stood tall and straight to give it to him. 

“Go on then, Leonardo.” 

“Would you – turn around, please, Ezio?” Leonardo crouched behind him. With the tape, he measured the width of Ezio's muscled thighs, the distance from his hipbone to the floor, the widest part of his hard calves. Again he was distracted by beauty. He set the measuring tape on the floor. 

Holding Ezio's hips, Leonardo kissed the slight soft swell at his waist, feeling muscle underneath it. Then over a dimple at the base of his spine. Then lower, kissing lightly up and down the crease of his arse. 

Ezio breathed harder, hips moving in his hands. Leonardo, heart pounding, slipped his tongue between Ezio's cheeks and followed it with a finger to brush the tight ring. Ezio gasped and Leonardo prepared to spread him open, thumbs braced on his firm cheeks. But before he could draw them apart, the boy turned around. 

"Not that way," Ezio said. 

Looking up at him from his knees, Leonardo hid his disappointment. 

"Ezio, my friend, whichever way you want it," he whispered. His eyes were level with Ezio's cock. Ezio took his prick in his hand and stroked it, pushing it against Leonardo's cheek. 

Leonardo turned his face towards the long hot shaft and kissed it. Then he shut his eyes, accepted it in his mouth. Ezio's sex-smell was now a taste, salt-sweet, the after-taste rising in the back of his nose. He sucked slowly, tongue sliding around the shaft, tip probing the hole. Ezio leaned back, elbows on Leonardo's workbench. His fingers gripped the edge, his flat belly trembling. Already he was dangerously close coming. Leonardo took his mouth away and Ezio moaned in complaint until, stroking the youth's wet cock with one hand, Leonardo leaned in and opened his mouth gently over Ezio's balls. He let the heavy sac rest on his tongue, kissed it, sucked first one side and then the other, all the while holding his cock and slowly stroking it. 

Ezio took his cock in his hand, then rested the head of his cock against his mouth. Leonardo opened his lips around it and Ezio shuddered. Leonardo laid a hand over the flat hard muscle of his abdomen, feeling tremors under his fingertips. He reached once more for his arsehole with gentle, probing fingers but Ezio pushed his hand away; he did not try again.

From his knees, Leonardo looked up past tight-curled black pubic hair and over the youth's sleek arched body. Ezio glanced at his face and their eyes met. Ezio shook and cried out, slinging long spurts of salt-seed into Leonardo's mouth. 

Head spinning, Leonardo rose and kissed Ezio on his mouth, slipping his tongue in so the boy could taste himself. Ezio grunted, swallowed, kissed him back, shaking with aftershocks of pleasure. Then he disengaged, wiping his mouth on his arm. 

"I have errands to run for my father," Ezio said. He found his clothes and began to dress. "I hope I helped you with your work, Leonardo." 

"Well - come back another time, Ezio." The disappointment - with an edge of humiliation - must have shown in his voice. 

" _Arrivederci_ , Leonardo," Ezio said, smirking. "And, thank you." With youthful carelessness, he let the door slam, leaving Leonardo cruelly to his own devices. 

Leonardo struggled to ignore his unrelenting erection. The boy had made a fool of him, but that didn't suppress his desires. Now he committed them to paper and canvas. Ezio Auditore - an arrogant noble youth, sexual knowledge in his amber eyes and smirking mouth. 

A few quick sketches, and then he would mix his paints. 

He drew Ezio's face, and looked at his mouth for a long time - the sparse shadow of the hair along his upper lip, split by the delicate line of a pearly scar. He had captured the expression on the boy's face perfectly - the half-smile and narrowed eyes. The smile of a young man convinced of his complete superiority to nearly everyone around him, and who had, in his seventeen years on this earth, experienced no real problems. 

After his face, Leonardo began on his body. On sheets of paper, Ezio lounged against his workbench, or braced his lean arms against a doorframe, his back and arse a study of muscle and bone and sinew - the contrast of hard muscle and softly shaded skin. Taking Ezio's measurements had helped. He could see the proportions in his mind, and he would not need the notes he had taken. But his book sat there, with the figures in it, reminding him of his humiliation. 

_Arrogant brat._

Giovanni Auditore was an intelligent and well-connected man, favoured by Lorenzo de Medici. Gonfalonieri Alberti was his close friend and ally. There was every possibility that Ezio's place in the world was indeed secure. But in Firenze, in these times, no man was unshakable. He wondered if life would ever teach that to Ezio Auditore.


End file.
